


Farm Boys, Nooners, and Other Reasons It's Good to be Oliver Queen

by quiet__tiger



Category: Smallville
Genre: Anal Sex, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 22:12:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10649094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: I think the title pretty much says it all.





	Farm Boys, Nooners, and Other Reasons It's Good to be Oliver Queen

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Livejournal Aug. 30th, 2008.

Oliver was finally tired of waiting, and he leaned across the bed to grab lotion off his nightstand. He slicked up his erect cock with slow, hard stokes, hand slipping through the lotion pleasantly.

After a couple of minutes of teasing himself, he heard the elevator reach the penthouse, the door open, and then a red and blue blur resolved itself at the foot of his bed. “Sorry I’m late.” Clark’s eyes flicked over Oliver’s body, stopping at his hand on his cock. “You started without me?!”

Oliver kept moving his hand as he acknowledged, “Clark. Our nooner is in danger of being a 1pm-er, or canceled altogether.”

“I know! But there were escaped cows blocking the tractor, and you’re not supposed to pick the cows up because it scares them, and they wouldn’t move out of the way or go back to their pen...” Clark narrowed his eyes. “Stop laughing.”

Oliver cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. “I’m not laughing, Clark.” Not where Clark could see, anyway. Inside, he was rolling on the floor struggling to breathe. Even Clark’s X-ray vision couldn’t see that, he didn’t think.

“ _Some_ of us have jobs where we actually have to work. With our hands. ...I don’t even know what you actually do all day.”

He waved the hand not on his cock. “Boring things with paper and the phone. Completely uninteresting. No cows.”

Clark glared. “Do you want sex with me or not? Because I’m sure I can find someone else to--”

Oliver didn’t wait for Clark to finish his surely empty threat; he pushed himself up and darted to the foot of the bed, kneeling on the mattress in front of Clark and kissing him hard. Clark tasted gritty from farm work and smelled like he hadn’t showered, but it all only turned Oliver on more. The rich playboy and his young, hardworking farm boy... “Mmm. Stay.”

He looked into Clark’s eyes, trying to get him to see the sincerity of his request, and Clark was giving him that dopey look he got on his face when he was amazed at something. Oliver liked the affirmation that he was a good kisser.

Long, strong fingers ran over Oliver’s bare chest. “You sure? I don’t want to make you late getting back to work.”

“I guess we’ll just have to hurry. Hard and fast so I won’t be able to sit down all afternoon.”

“Really?” The pretty blue eyes were dark with arousal but also concerned. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. I trust you.” Trusted him, and also had faith in his work at training Clark to know his limits so he wouldn’t hurt him. There’d been more than a few bruises marring Oliver’s skin at the beginning of their relationship, or whatever it was they were calling it. No bruises where anyone but he and Clark could _see_ , but bruises left him in pain and Clark upset, so they had to work on controlling Clark’s strength.

The effort was worth it; the sex was fantastic.

Oliver pushed Clark’s awful red jacket off his broad shoulders and tugged up on the hem of his blue t-shirt. “Off. We have enough time to strip. And I already don’t have clothes, so it’d be odd if you did.”

Using his speed to strip, Clark was naked front of him almost before Oliver finished his sentence, and he drank in his farm boy, all hard muscle and tanned skin. And nice cock pointing up towards him. He reached out to touch it, reacquaint himself with its girth.

He could take it hard and fast, he was pretty sure. They could at least try.

He stroked it hard a couple times, making Clark suck in a breath. “At least you came prepared, Clark.”

“Been hard all morning. And _not_ because of the stupid cows, you perv.”

Oliver half-smiled. “You don’t have to put words in my mouth.” He pressed his mouth against Clark’s. “But thanks for that image, really.”

Clark groaned. “Can we just get to the sex before I say something _really_ stupid?”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

At that, there were hands skating across Oliver’s body, chest, sides, ass, tugging on his cock, and Clark’s tongue in his mouth. But then the touches and kisses lessened in intensity, and then Clark pulled back entirely. “I feel dirty.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “You just came from the farm.”

Clark shook his head. “No, I mean _dirty_. Like a hooker. Like you’re just using me. Me coming here on your lunch hour and everything. You admitting ‘That’s what I’m here for.’”

“You’re not a hooker. You’re my...” Special friend? Fuck buddy? Hell.

Clark gave him a manly version of a pout. “Exactly. What is this?”

 _My quickie slipping away to a serious discussion._ But all he said was, “I thought we were having fun. Do you want... more than that?” Clark shrugged, and Oliver frowned. “I need you to talk to me.”

Clark didn’t looked at him, but then all of a sudden he did, his face serious and a little wary. “I like this. But I think I’d like a little more.”

 _Hmm._ “Are you okay with that? You didn’t even think you were really into guys until a few months ago, let alone want to date one. This was just experimenting, I thought.”

“I like you. A lot.” What was unsaid was that Clark had jumped through a lot of mental, and a few physical, hoops to get to this point with Oliver, to the point where they could have semi-casual sex, and maybe Oliver owed him more than just orgasms.

“Tomorrow. Come by the office, we’ll go out to lunch instead of have sex.”

Clark’s eyes lit up like Oliver had given him a pony. “Really?”

Searching inside himself for the truth, Oliver found it and squeezed Clark’s shoulder. “I like you, too. There’s room for more here. And I don’t want to lose what we’ve worked for over something ridiculous like not wanting to try it out.” He was Oliver Queen; he didn’t back down from a challenge.

All of a sudden Oliver found himself on the bed, on top of Clark, who was on his back. Clark pulled his head down to kiss him, and Oliver rubbed his cock against his—what, boyfriend’s? He supposed so. It was an odd thought; he hadn’t had anything resembling a boyfriend since high school.

Oliver stretched to his nightstand for lube and a condom. He dropped them onto Clark’s broad chest and kneeled next to him. “You behind me. Hard and fast.”

Clark nodded; he argued about positions a lot, but if they were going to finish in time for Oliver to get back to the office, they didn’t have time for something more romantic or whatever Clark was thinking of doing.

On his hands and knees, Oliver watched Clark roll over and felt him kneel behind him. Warm hands rubbed down his back, thumbs pressing in little circles. It felt really good, and another time he’d have been completely receptive to a massage, but he needed Clark inside him _now_. He spread his knees further apart to emphasize his point without words.

One of those large, warm hands squeezed his ass, but then there was a slick finger pressing against him. “Do it, Clark...”

Clark finally got with the program, and almost before Oliver knew it he had three fingers inside of him unerringly hitting the right spots. He pumped his own cock as he rode Clark’s fingers, and if that huge cock wasn’t inside him soon, it was going to be too late.

Exhibiting psychic powers, and not for the first time, Clark pulled his fingers out and a second later there was pressure of a different sort against him. He drew his knees closer together and put down his hand for better balance, and then Clark wrapped one hand around his hip and he then pushed inside, and Oliver bit his lip to keep from crying out.

Then he remembered they were in his home, in his bed, and he didn’t care what anyone heard, anyway. “Harder. Fuck me!”

For once in his life, Clark listened without thinking, and moved faster, and it hurt a little, sure, but it was _good_. Oliver’s knees started slipping apart, but then Clark’s other hand clamped onto his other hip, holding him in place. And he didn’t stop _moving_ , stretching Oliver open with each thrust.

“God, Clark...” His body reached a peak and twitched, then relaxed again as warmth rolled through him. Then again, and again... “Harder...”

Clark grunted, “Are you sure?” and in response Oliver reached back and tugged on his wrist. Clark took that hand and clamped it down on Oliver’s shoulder, leaning over him for a better angle and leverage.

“Oh, yeah...” He felt opened, abused, owned, and knowing that it was a rather innocent farm boy doing it made it even better. He wrapped a hand around his own cock again and squeezed, knowing he was going to come soon and wanting it to be _hard_. His body twitched again and he worked his hand harder, thumbing the head and then Clark rolled his hips and changed the angle a little more until it was _just right_...

“Clark, fuck, coming...” Clark didn’t stop moving as the sensations crested for the final time, Oliver’s body shuddering as it released its tension in a puddle underneath him.

Only when he was done twitching did Clark pull out, and there was a press of his lips to the back of Oliver’s neck. “Help me?”

Head resting on crossed arms, Oliver answered. “Can’t move.”

There was a pause, then Clark answered, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Oliver smiled. “You should.” But then he rolled over and stretched out, making sure to shift over enough so that he wasn’t lying in his puddle. He patted his thighs, and Clark took the hint to straddle him. Through the magic of superspeed, the condom was already disposed of, which meant Oliver could get right at Clark’s hard flesh.

He knew Clark was close to coming, he had to be, so he stroked hard, knowing that he’d never be able to squeeze tightly enough to hurt him. Clark’s eyes fluttered closed, and Oliver took a good look, knowing Clark didn’t leave himself open to inspection too often. He was so flushed and looked tired in a way he never did from anything else. It was that expression, right before Clark came, that Oliver loved to see. The uptight farm boy just letting _go_.

He pressed his thumb right underneath the head of the farm boy’s cock, right where it was most sensitive, and he was reward with a deep groan, the jerking of that invulnerable body, and a splash of alien semen on his chest.

Clark sat there for a second, jut breathing, then leaned down to kiss him and stayed there. Oliver accepted, loving the taste of satiated farm boy. Nothing like it.

Under the fall of shaggy dark hair, blue eyes flicked to the nightstand. “You’re going to be late.”

“It’s my company. I can go in, or not, whenever I want.”

“Don’t you have work to do?”

Oliver felt himself pout. “Paperwork can wait a few minutes, at least. Nothing serious going down this afternoon.”

Neither of them made the obligatory blow job joke, but somehow that was better than if one of them had. They lay there for another few minutes, Oliver playing with Clark’s hair while the farm boy idly rubbed his thumb over one his nipples. It was a moment of closeness that they didn’t normally allow themselves; maybe the admission that there was something more going on between them was making them more introspective and open to each other’s comfort.

It was nice.

Finally Oliver broke the silence. “And you’ll come by for lunch tomorrow?”

“Yeah. You can show me where big important CEOs go for lunch in the middle of the week.”

“Usually I go to the deli across the street from the office. They make good sandwiches. But if you want something more upscale, we can do that, too.”

Clark raised his head to smile at him. “Sandwiches are good.”

“Then we’ll do that. At _noon_. Provided the cows don’t put up a fight again, I guess.”

“You think you’re so funny.”

“I know I am.”

Clark rolled his eyes, and Oliver smiled. But then he looked over at his clock, and saw that it was much later than he’d thought it was. “Shit. I need to go. I need to shower. I’d ask you to join...”

“...but then you’d never make it to the office.”

“Not with enough time to do anything before everyone else leaves.”

Clark got off of him and slowly stood, stretching out his back as he did. Oliver watched his muscles flex and wished he didn’t have to go to work. But then he sat up and realized sex any time soon wouldn’t be a good idea. He was sore and when he looked down he could see there were definite finger-shaped bruises on his hips. He didn’t mind, but if Clark saw he’d be upset...

“Oh God... Are you okay?” Of course, Clark used the magic of sight and saw the bruises for himself.

“I’m fine.”

“I knew this wouldn’t be a good idea. I hurt you.”

“I’m fine.”

“If I hadn’t been late we could have taken it slowly. I like it slow anyway.”

“CLARK.” He finally looked up to Oliver’s eyes, worry etched on his pretty face. “I’m fine. Sore, yes. But I _wanted_ it. So stop worrying.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now go home and shower and go back to your cows.”

Clark grumbled as he got dressed, and Oliver couldn’t help but watch as each inch of that invulnerable skin got covered by denim and cotton. He just liked looking at Clark, no matter if he was dressed, naked, covered in mud or whatever.

Maybe it was one more sign that there was more there between them than he thought there was.

Finally Clark was dressed, and Oliver stood slowly. He tugged Clark to him using the t-shirt and kissed him quickly. “See you tomorrow. For our date.”

Clark got that goofy grin on his face that made him look slightly deranged. “Yeah. Date.”

Another brief kiss and an ass-grope from Clark and then he was gone. Oliver sighed, thinking about how the highlights of his days now were seeing Clark and having a good practice session with his bow, and the occasional Justice mission. Which wasn’t to say those things weren’t worthy, but it just brought to his attention how mundane his regular life was with its paperwork and phones.

But a real boyfriend... That would add something to his life that was missing. It’d be better than just nooners with his fuck buddy.

But maybe... He’d take tomorrow afternoon off. That way he’d get to have a date with his boyfriend _and_ a nooner, or an all day afternoon fuckathon. Best of everything.

Maybe people were right to say he was spoiled.

But he wasn’t finding it in himself to care.


End file.
